Flower of the Night
by Princess Twila
Summary: A story of a young girl, claiming lineage from both the Blacks and the Snapes...a continuation of the story "Flower of the Night" by Alethia II. Go read her story to catch up, and then join me for the rest of the adventure! Rated T for violence (it's the second Wizarding War, for Merlin's sake!)


**Hello everybody! As you probably know, Alethia II put her story, 'Flower of the Night', up for grabs, and she graciously allowed me to take up the mantle for this wonderful fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it! All credits for the story go to J.K. Rowling, and all credit for Anwen goes to Alethia II. What a character...**

Anwen glared coldly at Umbridge; she could hear Dumbledore's opening speech in the background, but the rest of her focus was on the foul lady in pink who smiled perkily at all of the students in the room. At last Umbridge's traveling gaze landed upon Anwen and Harry, sitting across from each other; both students scowled at her, and her smile only increased in sickly glee.

Anwen watched as Umbridge looked at Dumbledore as he announced her assumption of the DADA post. A small smattering of applause echoed throughout the Great Hall, and Umbridge inclined her head. Just as Dumbledore resumed his speech, though, Umbridge interrupted with a small, "Hem, hem", that grated against Anwen's nerves.

Umbridge stood up and walked up to the podium, and Dumbledore took her cue and graciously stepped aside for her to make her own speech. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. And how lovely to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me!" Anwen snorted quietly, knowing for certain that there was not a single soul in the room smiling. "I am sure we are all going to be very good friends," Umbridge simpered.

Anwen finally took her gaze from Umbridge and looked around the Great Hall, though she kept listening to the words coming from Umbridge's mouth. Harry had his head resting on a hand; Ron was twirling the end of his fork on the napkin, looking longingly at his plate; Fred and George were whispering to each other from either side of her; Neville's eyelids were slowly drooping; and everyone else in the Great Hall was similarly bored by Umbridge's speech. Only Hermione had every ounce of her focus trained on Umbridge, and Anwen knew instinctively that Hermione was just as alarmed by Umbridge's speech as she herself was.

Finally Umbridge finished her speech, and Dumbledore resumed his position, bidding everyone to eat. "Finally!" Ron sighed, digging into the platters that shimmered into reality on the table.

Hermione smacked her forehead. "Is food the only thing you pay attention to, Ronald?" she asked exasperatedly. Ron's upward glance, potatoes dribbling down his chin, was answer enough.

"Did _any_ of you pay attention to what Professor Umbridge was saying? Aside from you, Anwen," Hermione added as Anwen went to open her mouth. Anwen smirked at her; though there was a bit of a rivalry between them, both girls appreciated the other's intelligence and talent. When none of the others answered, Hermione continued what she was saying.

"The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts," Hermione lowered her voice with a sideways glance at the lady in pink daintily eating her peas up at the head table. "She mentioned 'Ministry-approved' methods and techniques…the Ministry is extending its reach to encompass Dumbledore's domain and those of us who might be directly loyal to him and not the Ministry."

Anwen nodded. "Plus, the Ministry will be able to directly expel at its source any rumors about Voldemort's return," she said.

"Which means," Hermione interrupted, "that you, Anwen, and you, Harry, will have to keep in line; Umbridge is going to be looking for any opportunity to publicly humiliate and punish you!"

"What about Cedric?" Harry frowned. "He saw Voldemort return, too."

"My guess is that they're going to attribute Cedric's claims to those of a troubled boy; you saw the Prophet article they published over the summer?" Hermione asked. Only Anwen nodded, and Hermione sighed in exasperation once again. "Really, it wouldn't hurt for you all to read at least _something_ in your lives!" she chided.

"The Prophet article contributed the attack and the Portkey to the last of the Death Eaters, the disgruntled supporters of Voldemort that the Ministry's been secretly tracking all these years. They even went so far as to say that they caught the perpetrators, perpetrators that they made up and who never existed," Anwen snorted in derision. Harry turned his head to glare once more at Umbridge at the head table.

"I can only imagine she'll be a gem as a teacher," Fred and George winked at each other.

"Miss Black, a word with you, please." Everyone but Anwen jumped at Snape's sudden appearance at the Gryffindor table.

"As you wish, Father," Anwen smirked, grabbing her bag and kissing George once before following him out of the Great Hall.

"As you undoubtedly noticed from her illustrious speech, Dolores Jane Umbridge is here to keep an eye on those who were present at the Dark Lord's return. I urge you to keep your head down, for once in your life; Professor Umbridge has the backing of the entire Ministry behind her, a force that we would not be able to protect you from," Snape paced back and forth in front of her.

"Relax, dad. If there's anybody who's going to come out the worse for the wear in this, it's going to be the Ministry," Anwen stated confidently.

Her father's dark eyes bored into hers. "Power does not come only in magical training, Anwen. You of all people should know that by now." Anwen bristled, unwilling to bring up the memories her father implied. Snape's shoulders sagged a bit, and Anwen noticed the creases at the corners of her father's eyes.

"Go to sleep; classes start bright and early tomorrow," Snape said, his black robes swirling as he turned towards the dungeons. Just as he was about to disappear from sight, Anwen called out to him.

"Dad?" Snape turned towards her. "You make sure that you don't get on Umbridge's bad side, either; Dumbledore's going to need all of the staff support that he can now that the Ministry is set on influencing Hogwarts." Snape scowled at the prospect of his 15-year-old daughter giving him advice, but as per usual, her logic was sound.

"And Dad?" Snape turned once more towards Anwen. She gave him a lopsided smile, a smile that she had inherited from her mother and which made Snape's heart ache. "At least try to get along with McGonagall."


End file.
